


Punished

by ScarletteStar1



Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Angst, Brattiness, Cum Play, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, No Plot, Oral Sex, Sir Malcolm/Vanessa Ives, Smut, Spanking, Titty Fucking, Victorian sex slang, angry Sir Malcolm, just porn, larking, malnessa, porn for the sake of porn, younger Vanessa and Malcolm, younger woman/older man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:47:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21696427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletteStar1/pseuds/ScarletteStar1
Summary: Vanessa Ives is exceptionally bratty and invokes Sir Malcolm's ire at the dinner table. . .  but what will happen when she chances upon him in his study late at night? How on earth will he deign to punish her?
Relationships: Vanessa Ives/Sir Malcolm Murray
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Punished

**Author's Note:**

> These two fools are my absolute favorite muses for whom to write. . . and it has been some time since I've written for them, but I was inspired and so here this little, smutty nugget is. . . if you've read me before you know that comments are the air I breathe and I respond to everyone in kind.

Silent and still, Vanessa lies until Mina's breath slows to a rhythm certain of sleep. To test the depth of her best friend's slumber, she rolls onto her side and presses a light kiss against Mina's cheek. Mina does not stir. Often enough, Vanessa has slept beside Mina in this great house, and knows how soundly she dreams.

Vanessa slips from the covers, shivers momentarily in the chill of Mina's chamber, but does not take her robe prior to taking her leave. The crisp spring night puckers her nipples as she creeps out of the room. 

The Murrays were among the first in the district to install gas lamps, and they remain dimly lit as she makes her way up stairs and down hallways. Although, had they been dark as a tomb, Vanessa would still have found her way to Sir Malcolm's rooms. She finds him at his desk, studying books and maps and charts. He's here before her eyes, and yet he is miles away. She clutches the cotton of her gown in her fists and her lips twist as she imagines where on earth he might be. Her deep, yet silent inhalation draws him back over land and sea, through desert and jungle, to the solid mahogany of his own study chair. 

It perturbs him, to be thusly disturbed. 

His nostrils flare. He smells her before he even sees her. An exotic mix of lilac and vanilla and her own spicy sweat and sea salt, intoxicates as much as infuriates him. Ever the ferocious beast, he pants softly, while he determines his attack. Slowly, he lifts his gaze to meet the pale form in his office door. 

"You," he growls. "You dare come here? Now?" 

"Yes," she hisses. She closes the door behind her with a quiet click and takes step after step toward him, seemingly unafraid in her sultry prowl. His carpet is sumptuous beneath her bare feet and his fire warms her bare arms, legs, and shoulders. She accepts the room's embrace with a smirk. "Are you quite cross with me, then?" She finds it near impossible not to smile, or even grin at him. As it is, she bares her teeth in a lusty grimace. 

A low, guttural noise escapes his throat as his fingers splay over the cool wood of his desk. "Cross does not quite begin to describe how I am feeling toward you currently, Vanessa." He pushes himself up, and stands, a great, dark, hunched, panther of a man. Briefly, his smokey gray eyes meet hers and then they drift away. 

"Can you not even look at me?" Her question comes, a salacious chide. 

"You were unfathomably rude at supper, Vanessa," he says. 

"Was I?" Her voice lilts. Her head tilts. She taunts him. 

"Oh, I believe you know you were," he moves from behind his desk, an animal, prowling. "You were a disgrace. It is a wonder your mother didn't send you home, to your own bed."

"Well, mother has always been eager to please you, has she not, Malcolm? And does it not please you for me to be so near you in the night, _Malcom_?" She draws his name over her tongue as though it it is a sticky sweet. 

"And then there is that! To call me by my Christian name in front of an entire table of guests. Quite undignified indeed!" he huffs. 

"Mmmmh. Yes. Indeed." 

"Your mother should whip your arse for such brattiness," he barely gets out between his clenched teeth. 

"Perhaps you should punish me then?"

"Perhaps I should."

"Perhaps you should bolt fast the gate between our houses so I may no longer come here and torture you with my presence?" Her eyelashes beat up at him. 

"Oh, you are bratty, Vanessa Ives," Sir Malcolm practically chokes. "One might even say exceptionally bratty. And in desperate need of correction." 

"Whatever will you do to correct my previous wrongs, _Sir_ Malcolm?" Vanessa simpers. She saunters toward him with a lascivious gait. In bare feet, she is much smaller than he, yet her violet eyes blaze, hot enough to melt silver, with confidence he's not known in many women. Oh, but she's only barely a woman, isn't she? Just eighteen and already so aware of the weaponry she wields by virtue of her sex. 

"Naughty child," Malcolm breathes down on her. She licks her lips as his brandy scented breath beats off her face. Her eyes flicker brazenly as she peers up at him. "Whatever will we do with you?" 

Her breath is steady as her gaze as she exhales, "You shall do as you please, _Sir_." At this, he shivers and his eyes roll back in his head. His fists pump open and closed at his hips and he works his jaw as though trying to resist something terrible and compelling all at once. 

"Go back to bed," he says between gritted teeth. "Go back to sleep next to my daughter who loves you despite your lack of virtue and your compulsion toward devilish things." 

"Do not we all bear our demons?" Vanessa asks in a voice bare as silk as she reaches for Malcolm's fists. "And does not their weight threaten to crush us always?" She runs her fingers over his rigid knuckles and feels tension coil in his entire body. 

Malcolm rolls his head back, closes his eyes and whimpers at her touch. "How have you cursed me? I am a man. A hero writ in poem and prose! And you. . . you are unknown. You are but a wicked, mean little girl." For several beats of their hearts they hover on the connection of their hands. Then, sudden as a wild animal, he rotates his wrists, grasps her forearms and spins her roughly around so her back faces him. He crosses her arms tightly over her chest and binds her stiflingly close to him. The rustle of their garments is the whisper of angels as they writhe to find a closer join. Vanessa arches against him and extends her neck so it is long, white, and soft beneath his lips. Helpless at her flesh, he mouths her at first and then bites. Little nips turn to savage need for her in his mouth. She arches into his embrace, flexing her arse into his crotch where she feels his arousal, hard and wanting.

Malcolm lets go Vanessa's arms and caresses her waist, up, up to her breasts. It takes only a flick of his fingers to push her white, cotton gown over her shoulders. It slips easily over her hips and lands at her feet. She wears nothing beneath, not even a thin pair of lacy bloomers to try and pretend decency. "We mustn't, we mustn't," he murmurs against her back even as he palms her breasts and twiddles her pert nipples between his fingers. 

"And yet. . ." she leans back, drawls her words against his neck. Reaching up, behind her, she caresses his great head in her delicate fingers. His coat is off, his shirt is open in a sight unseen to most at the Murray Mansion. Vanessa rolls her raven head over the exposed flesh of his chest, nuzzles her cheek on his coarse hair. 

"How could you?"

"What?" She licks her tongue up the tendon in his throat and grinds her hips into his groin. He grasps her belly, pulls her tighter into him. 

"How could you flirt so salaciously with those inane boys? At my own table, Vanessa? How could you?" 

"Ahhh," she sighs and twists in his arms, agile as a mermaid, to face him. "There it is. You will not claim me for your own, and yet you cannot bear the notion of another male planting his flag in a territory you have so long desired. You man, you reprehensible, covetous, weak, hypocrite." Her words are acerbic, and yet she says them in as sweet a voice as she might speak to a guest at a garden party. It seems to be this gentle tone that stokes Malcolm's fire. He backs her up to his desk and begins kissing her in earnest. Vanessa bites his bottom lip and he yelps. "Is it not enough you've already taken my maidenhead?" 

"No," he growls.

"Is it not enough, the lessons you've bestowed upon me? How you've taught me to moan in your ear as I kiss your flesh?" She does this as she speaks, her voice low, and elicits a keening noise from Malcolm as she nuzzles the line of his beard on his jaw. She spreads open his shirt and continues. "Oh, yes, Malcolm. How you've tutored me in the ways of stroking your back and chest, of scratching you to urge forth your moment of crisis? Is it not enough I am now skilled as a French lady when I wrap my lips around your dripping manhood and suck and lick until you explode in the back of my throat and I swallow you. . . gulp after gulp of your hot spendings? Is it not enough you've brought me far enough along in my teachings to not only enjoy such congress, but to crave it? To need it nearly as much as I need water and air?" 

"Vanessa, stop!"

"Never!"

"You are savage!" 

"No, Malcolm, you are savage, when you _fuck_ me hard and fast in your pristine maze, my leg hooked over your arm, completely unconcerned about the scratches your hedges leave upon my back and neck, or who on God's green earth might see us. You ravenous man! Is it not enough?" 

"You know full well it will never be enough," he grunts as he spreads her knees and kneels between her legs. Vanessa lies back on a crinkling bed of maps and letters. Malcolm parts her folds with his fingers, and moans at how hot and wet she already is for him. Helplessly, he licks his lips before bowing to worship her satin cunt with his tongue. At the sensation of his tongue trailing up and over her throbbing bundle of nerves, Vanessa balls her fingers to fists and pounds them against his desk before grasping his head and holding it fast against her. He licks and sucks with utmost hunger, and practically weeps at the sweetness she yields to him between her thighs. He moans against her, knowing she feels vibrations of his voice on her most sensitive region, and he is rewarded with the song of her soft panting and undulating hips.

Painfully aroused, he uses one hand to unbutton his breeches and extract his dusky headed erection, as he uses the other to slip a finger, and the a second, into her desperate wetness. Vanessa wiggles onto his fingers and he feels her prepare to cum beneath his tongue. Still angry, he stops his licking immediately, wondering momentarily if it is more of a punishment for him to steal his lips away from her pulsating nether lips, or to withhold her climax. 

"Ah," she gasps, "Nonono! Do not stop, I beg you!" 

"Beg all you want, Vanessa," Sir Malcolm says and turns her roughly over on his desk so her arse faces up toward the thick, weeping cock he holds in his own fist. He rams himself into her sopping pussy all at once. She's almost too wet, if that is even possible, but she tilts her hips back to take him as deep as she might. One of his hands instinctively finds a breast to squeeze and the other makes its way to knit his fingers in her hair.

Once within her, he wants to spend instantly and it infuriates him how she does this to him. He tugs her hair and pulls her head back so he can bite her snowy neck and shoulder. She will have to wear high collared dresses for weeks after he finishes with her this night. The thought brings a ghastly grin to his lips and he rides her hard.

He brings himself close to completion and then stops to feel the sucking moisture of her quim. Drawing himself out almost entirely, he feels the cool air kiss his prick, and then he rams himself back into her heat to his hilt. He repeats this process, slowly stroking himself out and then quickly forcing himself back into her heated purse. It feels tremendously good, and yet it quells his urgency to spend so soon. He takes his time, palming her firm arse, then reaching down and around to get at her breasts. They are but pillows of fluff beneath his palms and he longs for a nipple in his mouth, so to satisfy this need, he rolls her firm, pink pearls between his fingers and sucks up the bruises on her neck. 

With each pinch of her nipple, he feels her cunt squeeze around his cock and he knows she does this for the purposes of not only getting herself off, but for teasing him as well. It feels so good. It feels _so fucking_ slick and tight and he's sure he's touched heaven inside of her and then he's sure he's burning in pits of fire, she is so hot deep within. He untwines his fingers from her hair so he can hit her, rather hard, and then _precisely_ hard on her round arse which thrusts up to take him over and over. He spanks her until she cries out and clings fast around him with her internal walls. Satisfied at last with the reddened welt he's brought up on her perfect, ivory skin, he rubs his hand over her, gentling the injury and creating a delicious tingling for Vanessa across her overly sensitive skin. 

It is the pleasure in pain that brings Vanessa straight to the edge. With loud, lusty grunts she rams her arse back against his taught abdomen. She sounds practically like a woman possessed as she prepares to cum, and Malcolm is momentarily frightened someone will hear, so he covers her mouth with his hand which is still hot from spanking her.

Vanessa writhes until her mouth clamps down on his fingers and she sucks against his fingers, taking them deep into her mouth as her pussy climaxes impossibly hard around his cock. For a moment he stills himself so he might feel every last pulsation, every little shiver and shake as she spends so beautifully, so perfectly with her arse high against his belly. 

Suddenly, Malcolm realizes he is about to die his own little death, sheathed deep within Vanessa.

This will not do.

He dredges his cock from her slick and she cries out, turning her head back to gaze at him, glassy eyed, "No, don't leave. Cum in me. Please!"

"No," he groans. "It will destroy us both to get a child on you. I'll not have it." He yanks her limp body from his desk and pushes her to the nearby sofa where she lands softly on her back. He climbs over her and starts to rub himself off on her stomach. But it isn't enough. Briefly, he considers plunging himself back inside of her, but then he catches the fast rise and fall of her breasts and he gets another idea.

Crawling up over her, he places his cock between the downy mounds of her breasts. Using his hands, he squeezes them against him and begins to lark her. She's warm and cups his arse as he strokes himself between her chest, urging himself to his agony of bliss. He throws his head back, eager to finish, and then looks down, wanting more than anything to see his prodigious engine shower her throat with a necklace of gleaming white pearls. The thought of it carries him to the precipice. He needs it. He desires it more than any mountain he's ever claimed and named. "Yes, fuck!" he cries out and squeezes her tits harder against his steed. And just as he is about to experience a most epic sting of pleasure, Vanessa wiggles down, naughty as ever, and takes his cock between her lips. She swallows him down to his root. "No!" he cries out hoarsely, and expires hotly into her throat, simultaneously ecstatic and aggrieved he's been stolen of his portrait. 

Vanessa milks every last drop of his seed, swallowing it all like a babe at bottle as she clutches his arse and sucks him dry. Sated at last, Malcolm crawls from her and sits to gather his breath on the sofa. Vanessa cuddles into him, licks at his nipples and holds him fast. "You are an insolent, terrible child," he gasps at last. 

"Yes," she sighs. Her breath ripples over his chest as she curls closer into him. Such warmness could beckon sleep, even for a man with so much work to do. 

"Go back to bed now," he says. 

"But I want to stay with you," she whispers and again her breath ghosts his chest. "I want to be here. I always feel so safe with you." 

"No," he grumbles. He wrenches his body from her grasp and stands. He tucks and buttons himself back into his breeches, ignoring the vanilla and salt that curses his flesh as he does. He finds her nightgown and tosses it at her without looking at her. "Go back to bed, Vanessa." 

Vanessa hears the warning in his tone. Her body is worn out, fucked out, sore and strange, but she manages to pull her garment over her head. "Yes, Sir," she says as she rises. She pads across the carpet to him in a weak gasp of lilac and stands on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 

Back to Mina's bed she finds her way, punished after all. 


End file.
